The Phantom of the Odd-pera
by ErinMilne
Summary: Orchid wants the spotlight. Xena wants to keep the spotlight. Oprah wants to keep everyone safe. Oona wants to keep her best friend safe. Oscar wants to do his job. Xavier wants people to let him do his. Otis and Olympia want to figure out what the heck is going on. And the Phantom... well, perhaps it would be better if we didn't know what he wants.


"How long has it been again?"

Otis dug a watch out of his pocket and gave it a glance. "Longer than we expected," he answered, met with a groan from Olympia. Otis couldn't say he blamed his best friend. She'd dragged them here, to the Opera Populaire, about an hour before they technically officially took over ownership and management of the place. About fifteen minutes had passed since their appointment was supposed to have taken place. Olympia had been spending that time pacing up and down the corridor, humming tunes from her favorite operas to herself, expelling the energy that constantly seemed to bubble from within her heart. This section of the place was almost entirely deserted, aside from the occasional stagehand dashing by. And yet, there was the constant feeling that someone, something, was there with Otis and Olympia, watching their every move…

Otis shook off his fears and took another look at his watch. What was taking them so long?

The office door swung open. Olympia's glasses nearly flew off her face as she turned to face the tall young man in the door. "Sorry about the wait," he said with a warm, friendly expression. "Olive and I got lost in conversation."

"It's not really a problem, Otto," Otis said as he gave Otto's hand a single firm shake. "We really can't thank you enough."

Olympia bunched herself up beside Otis. "Can't help but notice how deserted this place is," she said in the tone Otis recognized as curious without being explicit about it.

Otto seemed to pick up on Olympia's curiosity. "Oh, the dress rehearsal for _Hannibal_ is happening as we speak," he explained. "Come on in, and let's get this paperwork signed!"

As Otis entered the near-immaculate office - the current managers must have already cleared out their personal belongings - he noted a young woman sitting at one end of the large desk, her chestnut hair done in a simple bun. She looked up as Otto led Otis and Olympia inside. "Thanks for coming in on such short notice," she said in a cold, professional tone.

"You're welcome!" said Olympia with a wide grin. "It's an honor to be here, really it is, Madame Olive. You couldn't be leaving the opera house in more capable hands!"

"I'm counting on it," said Olive, a slight smirk slipping onto her face. "We have the paperwork all ready. Just sign here, here, and here, and we'll be good to go."

Otis took the pen Otto held out to him, scribbled a signature on one of the documents, and passed it to Olympia. She took her time with an elegant signature, one containing a fair amount of loops. The second signature she made was slightly different, and the third little more than a straight set of loops.

"Congratulations," Otto said as he collected the papers. "Now let's go introduce you guys to the cast and crew."

"Aren't they in rehearsal right now?" Otis asked as he stood once more.

Olive stood up and moved to the front of the desk. "Rehearsal should be winding down. We'll find a quiet moment to interrupt," she explained.

"Sounds good to me!" said Olympia, her face exploding in a smile.

Olive and Otto led Otis and Olympia out of the office, down the corridor, and eventually into the front of the house. As they quietly slipped through the doors, the first thing Otis noticed was the chandelier. A beautiful affair of crystal beads and golden vines, it beamed from above the seats, rocking ever-so-slightly back and forth. A high-pitched note hit Otis's ears, and he turned his attention to the stage. There, a shortish woman in an elaborate outfit, complete with full skirt and headpiece, sang cadenzas over a severed head crowned with a wreath of leaves.

"Perfect timing," Olive whispered. "We'll only have to wait a couple of minutes before this scene ends."

Olympia gave a little gasp upon looking at the stage. "Is that…"

"Xena Giudicelli," Otto explained in a loudish whisper. "She's been our leading lady for five seasons. I should warn you guys, she can really be a diva when she wants to be. Really expensive tastes…"

"We've handled worse," Otis shrugged as the orchestral accompaniment began with a flourish and the landscape of Carthage became visible onstage. The chorus and corps de ballet filed on, in elaborate (and surprisingly skimpy) outfits of red and green, with a heavy dose of gold trim. The chorus rang out, a tune very familiar to Otis:

_"With feasting and dancing and song  
Tonight in celebration  
We greet the victorious throng  
Returned to bring salvation  
The trumpets of Carthage resound  
Hear, Romans, now and tremble  
Hark to our step on the ground  
Hear the drums, Hannibal comes!"_

The chorus line parted to reveal a man in exquisitely detailed armor, including a ridiculously large feather in his helmet. "Xavier Piangi," Olive explained, still whispering. "Our lead tenor, and Xena's boyfriend. He's almost as bad as she is, if you want to talk about being a diva."

"Shh! He's singing!" Olympia was right; Xavier had begun his solo section of the scene. His voice, while powerful, seemed to be simply going through the motions of the music, without finding any amount of emotion in his part.

_"Sad to return to find the land we love  
Threatened once more by Roma's far-reaching grasp-"_

Someone with a mustache dashed onstage as the music ground to a halt. Olive and Otto let out a simultaneous groan.

"What's wrong?" Olympia asked, a cloud of concern darkening her normally-bright features.

Olive pressed her palm to her face. "It's nothing," she said evasively.

Otto shook his head. "There's nothing wrong with Obfusco, he's just… well…"

"He's recently become interested in… certain poets. We can't get a straight sentence out of him anymore. Everything's a metaphor for something else."

Otis nodded, his attention firmly on the events onstage. "_Roma_ is the muddied path compared to _Rome_'s clear sunset…" Mustache Guy - Obfusco, apparently - was musing.

Xavier interrupted, "I get it. I'll sing it the boring way." His speaking voice was almost as emotionless as his singing voice.

Obfusco started offstage, adding, "Let the grasshoppers commence at the sorrowful reunion!"

"How… how do you understand him?" Olympia said, her eyes as wide as her mouth.

"It's mostly context clues," said Olive with a sigh and another shake of her head. Xavier began singing again:

"_Sad to return to find the land we love  
Threatened once more by_Rome's _far-reaching grasp  
__Tomorrow we shall break the chains of _Rome  
_Tonight rejoice, your army has come home-_ah_!_"

"He, uh, doesn't take kindly to criticism," Otto explained with a nervous smile as the leads stepped to the side of the stage while the ballet girls began to dance. An older woman in a black dress and holding a cane observed the dance, her dark eyes scrutinizing every move they made.

"That's Madame Oprah Giry," Olive explained, gesturing towards her. "She's the ballet mistress, but she basically runs this place. Been here longer than anyone."  
"She was the manager before we stepped in. You don't want to mess with her," Otto added with a shudder.

Almost immediately, Oprah brought her can down with such force that the bang echoed through the theatre space, making all four in the front of the house jump. "You! Orchid! Get your head out of the clouds and get back in time!" she thundered with the volume of a trained singer. The offending dancer, a smallish girl, stuck her tongue out at Oprah before complying, earning a worried glance from the dancer next to her.

"Orchid always had a bit of a rebellious streak," said Olive.

Olympia adjusted her glasses and observed, "That girl next to Orchid, she's really good!"

"That'd be Oona, Oprah's daughter," Otto explained.

"Explains where she gets it," Otis added. The music reached a climax, and the singing began anew:

"_Bid welcome to Hanibal's guests  
The elephants of Carthage  
__As guides on our conquering quest  
__Dido sends Hanibal's friends…_"

The leads stepped up to the front of the stage as a giant mechanical elephant was rolled on behind them. "This is my favorite part," Olympia squeaked, clapping her hands together in rapid succession. Once the leads' little duet ended, the chorus took over again as Xavier struggled to get on top of the elephant, requiring a boost from a soldier. He barely made it on top as the scene came to a close.

"This is a good time to introduce you two," Olive suggested as the singers and dancers broke off from their formations to chatter amongst each other. A red-haired stagehand brought on a rope ladder so Xavier could get down from the elephant, and he almost instantly returned to Xena's side. The managers all stepped up to the stage from a staircase.  
"Excuse me - excuse me!" Otto called while Olive cleared her throat and Olympia and Otis stood there awkwardly. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention to them. Otto turned to Oprah. He didn't even have to open his mouth before she banged her cane again and yelled, "Everybody shut up and listen up!"

"Thank you," Olive said with a genuine smile before turning her attention to the assembled performers. "As you all may or may not know, there have been rumors that Otto and I will be stepping down as managers of the Opera Populaire. I can tell you that they're true."  
Otto continued, "But we managed to find a pair of great successors. Allow me to introduce Monsieur Otis Firmin and Madame Olympia Andre!"

Some polite applause came from the crowd as attention fell on the new managers. Olympia dipped into a curtsey, and Otis gave a timid bow.

"So you two think you can run this place?" Xena asked, pushing herself to the front of the crowd and giving a mocking laugh. Before Xena could make another comment, Olympia had run up to her.

"It's an honor to meet you face-to-face," Olympia said in a blur, her words running together, as she pressed her palm into Xena's. "I'm a big fan, I've experienced all your greatest roles!" As Olympia began to list and describe some of these roles, Xena still retained her scowl, but her expression softened slightly upon hearing herself praised.

"Suck-up," Xavier commented dryly. Otis ignored him, also turning to Xena. _Olympia's on to something_, he thought. _Can't hurt to have a good relationship with our employees. _Aloud, he asked absently, "Doesn't Ellisa have a nice aria in Act Three of _Hannibal_?"

"Among many," Xena snarked. "Your point?"

"I was thinking maybe you could sing it for us...unless our musical director objects, of course."

'Well, does he?" Xena looked suggestively at Obfusco, who was already moving to a piano in the wings.

Obfusco's answer rang out dramatically. "The planet-sized nightingale has spoken! Would she enjoy a piece of juicy fruit?"

"Uh, yeah, two bars should work," Olive answered as Otis and Olympia locked eyes in complete confusion. Obfusco began playing a short introduction on the piano, followed by Xena's glistening tones:

_"Think of me, think of me fondly  
When we've said goodbye  
Remember me every so often  
Promise me you'll try  
On that day, that not-so-distant day  
When you are far away and free  
If you ever find a moment,  
Spare a thought for me…"_

As Xena took a breath in preparation for the second verse of the aria, a flicker of motion caught Otis's eye. He glanced upward - and saw a backdrop plummeting from the rafters, right towards Xena's elaborate headpiece. "Xena, look out!" he called, just in time for Xena to register the falling fabric and dash out of the way. The backdrop crashed to the stage, sending most of the cast into a tizzy. "He's here!" Otis heard distinctly. "The Phantom - he must be in the rafters!"

_Phantom?_

One of the ballet girls - Oona, maybe, Otis was having trouble telling the difference between them - was running around in a total panic. She ran straight into Olympia, who grabbed her by the shoulders and said calmly, "Okay, okay, let's get ahold of ourselves, Oona. Breathe… Breathe…"

Otto had rushed to Xena's side. "Signora, are you okay?" he asked, brushing off her dress before getting his hand slapped away by the soprano.

Olive shouted into the flys, "Can you guys get Oscar down here?"

"Yeah!" came the response.

Otis slipped up to Olive's side. "Olive, what's going on?" he asked in a hushed tone.

Olive whispered back. "It's fine. Oscar probably let go of a rope or something on accident. He's our chief of the flys."

"Yeah, but what about the Phantom everyone's going crazy over?"

Olive paused for a second, but a tall, bespectacled man dashed onstage, coils of rope draped over his shoulder. "Hey guys!" he said in a shaky tone.

"Oscar, what happened up there?" Otto asked.

Oscar shook his head rapidly. "I have no idea, I wasn't up there, no one was up there, I know, I checked, although it's really hard to tell the difference between stagehands, seriously, how many redheads did you guys hire?"

"It's the Phantom!" Oona screamed again. "He's gonna kill us all one of these days!"

"Geez, calm down," Otis groaned. "There's no such thing as ghosts."

On the edge of his hearing, Otis heard the slightest hint of a chuckle.

Olympia had joined Otto in calming Xena down. "These things happen," she said with a grin.

Xena was not grinning. She snapped, "'These things happen'? _'These things happen'?!_ You've been here for five minutes! You know nothing! 'These things' have been happening for _three years_! _Three! Years! _And our incompetent managers couldn't even do anything about it! I should have gotten them fired sooner! You guys are gonna be as bad as they were! 'These things happen'? Well, until you can stop 'these things' from happening, _this thing does not happen! I QUIT!_" With a frustrated snarl, Xena threw her scarf to the ground and stormed offstage.

Xavier turned to the stunned crowd with a smirk, quipped, "Amateurs," and smugly followed his girlfriend.

A moment of awkward silence took the stage. The ensemble seemed very interested in their feet. Olympia stared after Xena, stunned. No one felt comfortable enough to make eye contact with anyone else.

"I believe that's our cue to go?" Olive prompted, starting off the stage.

"Yeah, we should go," Otto said, turning to the new managers one more time. "Good luck, you two," he said with a smile. "Feel free to call on us if you need any help. Honestly, I don't think you'll need it."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Otis replied, a smile tugging at the edges of his own lips. Otto followed Olive off the stage and through the house. Otis watched them as they slipped through the house door and left, the shutting door echoing through the house.

"Soooooo…. When's Xena coming back?" Olympia posed to the crowd.

"Not tonight, that's for sure," said Madame Oprah, stepping through the clusters of singers and dancers from out of a shadow. "She's gonna need at least a night to cool off after a rant like that. Anyway, the opera ghost asked me to tell you two some things..."

"This is starting to get ridiculous," Otis muttered under his breath. Oprah, meanwhile, pulled a piece of yellowed, water-damaged paper from somewhere in her dress and read the text on it aloud:

_To the new managers of the Opera Populaire:_

_Welcome to my opera house. I am sure you have already received a warm welcome from the singers, dancers, and stagehands here at the Opera. Perhaps you have already met some of the more… colorful characters. But you have yet to meet me - although I am already well acquainted with the both of you. With luck, we will have no need to see each others' faces during your period of ownership. Follow my instructions carefully, and I assure you that you and all others here will be safe._

_To begin, you may already know by now that the fifth of the publicly available viewing boxes provides the best view of the stage as well as the best acoustics. I am used to nothing but the best. Therefore, my first request is that you leave Box Five empty during all performances and rehearsals for my private usage. Then there is the matter of my salary. The former managers were generous enough to offer me twenty thousand francs per month. Now that the Viscount de Changey has offered his patronage of the opera house, perhaps you can afford to pay me more than that._

_For now, that concludes my commands. More of my comments will make themselves noticeable as I observe how you perform as managers. Remember, you may own the opera house, but it belongs to me._

_I have the honor to be  
Your Obedient Servant,  
O.G._

"You sure you didn't write that yourself?" Otis asked after Madame Oprah had finished reading.

"I can't write that eloquently," replied Madame Oprah.

Olympia rushed to Otis's side and added, "Um, that's nice and all, but we have an opera tonight and no leading lady. Who's Xena's understudy?"

"The examination takes place on the rooftops," Obfusco declared from the wings. "The hippopotamus was born today!"

"Translation…" Otis said with a sigh.

Rolling her eyes, Madame Oprah said, "He said there's no understudy, since the production is so new." The managers let out a simultaneous groan.

"I'll sing it!"

Otis and Olympia turned around to see that one of the other ballet girls, the short one, the one Olive had identified as Orchid, had stepped forward. "I can sing the part," Orchid continued. "I've been taking lessons from a really good teacher."

"Oh, really?" Olympia asked hopefully. "Who?"

"Like I'm gonna tell you, Sherman," said Orchid with a smirk.

"Actually, my name's Olympia…"

"We don't have time for this," Otis interrupted. "You're Orchid, right?"

"Orchid Daae, yeah."

Daae. That last name sounded kind of familiar. "Any chance you're related to the violinist, I think his name was Gustav Daae?" asked Olympia.

"Oh, that's my grandpa," said Orchid, a slight shadow passing across her face.

Otis laughed, a dry chuckle. "Okay then, Orchid Daae, let's see for ourselves if you inherited any of that musical talent. Obfusco, can we start from the beginning of 'Think of me'?"

Thankfully, Obfusco's only response was to begin the introduction in a more accessible key. Orchid started the song quietly, but intensely. Unlike Xena, she sang with her heart as well as her vocal cords. By the time the bridge rolled around, everyone was staring at the surprisingly powerful singer with awe. A few of the girls had even been reduced to tears.

Olympia, a huge grin on her face, whispered to Otis, "Yeah, she gets the part."

Otis simply nodded. _Y'know, this isn't going to be nearly as hard as I thought…_

* * *

The dulcet tones of Orchid's song carried through the house, directly into the waiting ears of an onlooker. Having wrapped himself in a cloak of embroidered black silk, he was virtually indistinguishable from the shadows in and around his perch. He watched as the lady manager rushed up to his pupil, absolutely beaming. And why shouldn't they be impressed? Her voice was only an extension of his own, after all. She'd been able to sing when they met, of course, but not like him. Never like him.

_So glad to see that Oprah is cooperating_, he thought with an inward grin. _I'd hate to see something happen to her… or that nutcase of a daughter she has. And that man - Otis? Whatever his name is, he's going to be trouble. I'll have to keep an eye on him._

_And Orchid - my dear, sweet, innocent Orchid… my training has clearly paid off. Your time has come. You'll be a prima donna in no time, just like you always wanted._

As he slipped further into the shadows, a flash of paleness caught his eye. He turned. There was a mirror, his reflection barely visible in the dim light. A human head, the only feature. One half was a handsome face, but a mask of beautiful, flawless porcelain covered the other half.

He grinned and slicked back his hair. _You handsome devil, you._

_No. No, not a devil. Tonight, you're an angel. Just for tonight. Just for her._

_But she doesn't know that. She knows next to nothing about me. I'm just the voice in the back of her head._

_It's time I showed her who I really am._


End file.
